Funshots Just Went M
by Skillet-Writer
Summary: After SpongeBob swallows the formula in Friend or Foe, how does he retrieve it? - And more raunchy stories to come. Heh heh.


**Hey, it's Skillet-Writer! I know, I know, I made you guys wait over a month for some new fanfics, I left "Failed Attempts" and others on hold, left you with nothing new to read other than a dark story, "His All Wasn't Enough", and now I'm back with some weird shit called "Funshots Just Went M"? Yep.**

**As you may have already guessed, Funshots Just Went M is essentially "SpongeBob SquarePants Funshots", except I can turn it up a notch. I'm warning you, there's going to be a whole lot of smut, foul language, and adult content here. I'm sorry dear readers, but I'm not all that innocent, as you kinda already know.**

**Anyways, this first Funshot (a funny/crazy oneshot) is literally potty humor for mature audiences. I don't know why I wrote this. Maybe you'll get a kick out of it. It'll either be gross or kinky depending on who's reading. Again, my apologies.**

**_7/28/19: Italics may be added later. Typos will be fixed eventually. I'm tired._**

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Early one Monday morning, Plankton carried out yet another one of his convoluted schemes to steal the beloved Krabby Patty Secret Formula. And again, he failed. The Krusty Krab had gone on lockdown, and the relentless thief was forced to accept defeat when SpongeBob caught and swallowed the formula. Mr. Krabs gave the boy a small bottle of brand name laxatives, MiraLAX, and sent him on his way. This wasn't the first time that the sacred formula and its contents ended up in SpongeBob's, well, stomach contents. Hopefully, SpongeBob thought, it would be the last.

A few hours after his first pill, and still no bowel movement. He had a few digested Krabby Patties that needed to exit his body first before he could even get close to retrieving the formula. Given that he loved Krabby Patties, it should come as no surprise that'd he'd had three of them. Due to his intestines trying to break down a glass bottle (which it was unable to do), his digestive system was all messed up, and he was passing gas at an unusual rate.

"SpongeBob, hurry up with those orders!"

"Sorry, Squidward! I'm trying, I really" —he burped— "am." His hands were everywhere. The silver of his spatula was whooshing through the air at record speed. Lettuce and tomatoes were flying, cheese and pickles met bun. SpongeBob was just about to add the condiments when— "Ah, shrimp!" He clutched his stomach, moaning.

Squidward whipped his head around upon hearing SpongeBob "curse", an uncommon occurrence in the workplace. He raised an eyebrow at the sight. The fry cook was hissing, writhing in a kneeling position on the floor, with one hand attending to the patties on the grill. "Uh, Sponge?"

"Dear Neptune, it hurts."

"What the heck's wrong with you?"

A couple of loud toots escaped him, which produced bubbles in the surrounding water.

"Seriously, SpongeBob?"

"...Excuse me. Y'know, I can't really help it."

"Look, just get these next few orders out, and—"

"MR. KRABS!"

The musical shuffling of little crab legs could be heard, and seconds later Mr. Krabs was in the kitchen, eying the boy with concern. "The formuler givin' ya trouble, boy?"

SpongeBob nodded weakly. "I... I need to go to the bathroom." He was visibly bloated, and if one listened closely, they'd be able to hear his tiny stomach gurgle.

"Aye, make it quick. Mr. Squidward, man the grill."

At this, Squidward grimaced. "I can't catch a break in this Neptune-damn establishment." He pulled at his lower eyelids dramatically.

"Oh, quit yer bitchin'! The boy just needs to take a quick dump, is all."

"But, Mr. Krabs—"

"Shut yer trap." He turned to the fry cook. "You can go, lad."

SpongeBob got up clumsily from where he knelt and bolted to the bathroom. As to not offend anyone with his potentially foul excrements, and, of course, to give himself some level of privacy, he chose to occupy the farthest stall from the door.

Having been stuck in this godawful situation before, he knew of some methods to relieve himself and his pain. Thankfully, his backside wasn't a mess yet, because what he planned to do required him to fool with his nether regions. Sandy had told him one day, when he was suffering from constipation, that he could possibly encourage a bowel movement if he were to rub his perineum with his fingers. "...Then y'all should simply massage that area between your anus and where the reproductive organs on a normal animal would be," she'd said, chuckling. "Y'all ain't normal, SpongeBob."

SpongeBob did a sort of squat inside the stall, a few inches in front of the toilet. Bending down partially, he reached his index and middle finger underneath of him until his hand met his nethers. He placed his fingers on his perineum and began to gently push the area, rubbing in tiny, circular motions. He could feel his anus pucker as he rubbed harder. A few seconds later, he felt a small shift behind his perineum. Maybe now something would come out.

He seated himself upon the toilet and squeezed. His abdomen caved inwards just barely, as he was bloated. He gritted his teeth. Nothing. Nothing was coming out. He could feel the blockage within, yet it just wouldn't budge. He squeezed harder. "Gah!" he exclaimed. His side began to cramp up due to the strain. He bit his lip, a tear falling from his eye. He'd have to take more laxatives, but for now, it was back to the kitchen.

~2 hours later...

"SpongeBob! SpongeBob! I need a double patty with extra cheese."

Squidward stuck his head through the window of the kitchen. "SpongeBob!" he repeated, looking around. The grill was on, but no patties. That was odd. And he hadn't heard any annoying blurbs from SpongeBob in over five minutes. He had been whining a bit, but Squidward thought little of it. "...Huh?" Looking closer, he realized that there were patties on the grill. Or, rather, had been. Their dying sizzles were reminiscent of the faint whimpering that could be heard coming from the restroom.

"Where's my patty, man?" said one customer who was seated at a table with his arms crossed, an exaggerated frown plastered on his face.

"You'll get it when you get it," Squidward snapped. "Don't lose your shrimp just yet, buddy. As you can see, the fry-cook's missing." He pointed to the kitchen, exasperated. There were a few fresh burgers on the counter, he realized, so he decided that the customers would have to makedo with them until he found SpongeBob.

Ensuring that he had no further orders to take for at least a few minutes, he stepped out of the cashier boat, his brow creased. What now? What would be the hold up this time? Out of ketchup? SpongeBob didn't add enough love to a patty, thus why he presumably was upset? Oo, perhaps they were going home early? 'Now that would be nice,' Squidward mused. He approached the male restroom and opened the door, when he was immediately hit with a foul odor.

"Neptune, what is that SMELL?" His tentacles instinctively flew up to grasp his unfortunately large nose. "Oh, what sick fu... Who took a fu— a disgusting crap in here?!" He reluctantly sniffed around to determine the stall that was the source of the smell. "SpongeBob better be in here freshening up the place or something. 'Cause so help me Neptune, if I have to clean this mess, there's gonna be a problem."

Squidward stopped at the farthest stall on his right. His eyes widened when he realized that the source of the smell was still in the bathroom, still spewing their body's putrid waste mercilessly into the toilet bowl. Whoever it was, well... the inconsiderate jerk —or perhaps poor sap— had most definitely heard Squidward's harsh words of disgust and disapproval. And Squidward knew of only one guy who would seldom defend himself... SpongeBob.

"SpongeBob! Is that you?"

SpongeBob was shaking all over, nervous and ashamed. He had taken more laxatives than he should've when his stomach started to cramp a couple hours ago. "Remember, lad," Mr. Krabs had said, "these here laxatives will help move the formuler through yer digesterve system. Take too many, and yer crap will come out a mess." And his boss wasn't wrong. 'Cause now SpongeBob was seated over a toilet, clutching his stomach, and red with embarrassment.

"...Y-yeah. It's me."

Squidward sighed. He'd come here to ridicule the sponge, but the little fella sounded like he was experiencing some real pain. Pain, and humiliation. Finally it hit him that SpongeBob had been dealing with some issues all day, and that's why he wasn't at the grill. Duh. But, even if Squidward may have —just a little— wanted to make sure SpongeBob was alright, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The sounds of straining and liquid shit tainted the smelly air with a heavy cloud of awkwardness.

Squidward chose the best words he could find. "Krabby Patties go in and come out the same, don't they?" Okay, so maybe they weren't the best words, because seconds later, SpongeBob was in tears.

Behind the stall door, the boy's red face scrunched up in despair. He wanted to get up from the toilet, avoid any trouble with his boss, and get back to doing what he loved, but it would be so uncomfortable. His stomach was churning its contents like butter, and every few seconds since he'd sat down on the toilet, runny poop would wait eagerly behind his anus, ready to slide out. Simply getting up from the toilet was inconvenient. He'd have to wipe, and that alone would prove to be a challenging and very messy endeavor.

"Look, SpongeBob, I'm telling Mr. Krabs. This is pathetic." He fanned the air around him. "It reeks in here."

"Squid, wait!" SpongeBob said weakly, holding his face in shame. "I'm so embarrassed." He groaned as more waste left his body.

Squidward crinkled his face in disgust. "SpongeBob, listen. Mr. Krabs will find out one way or another, so it's best that I just tell him. You're his favorite, and he needs you on site making patties. If it's what it takes to get you back out there, and there's no spending involved, heh, he'll comfort you."

Yeah, right.

"Wipe yer ass, wash yer hands, and take a bucket with ye!" hollered a very non-comforting Mr. Krabs. He threw open the stall to face SpongeBob, who's usually pink-tainted cheeks were a bright, rosy red.

SpongeBob frowned, utterly mortified. He made efforts to cover himself with his hands. "But my stomach's upset, Mr. K," he stuttered. "My intestines are all screwed up thanks to that bottle."

"The only stomachs I'm worried about right now are the customers, boy, and you should be to. Now do as I said and get back to work." The crab scurried back to his office, evidently unconcerned.

SpongeBob did as he was told. He wiped, albeit reluctantly, thoroughly scrubbed his hands, and picked up a bucket that was tucked underneath one of the sinks. He brought the bucket with him to the kitchen, where he sat it down in front of the grill.

SpongeBob eyed the bucket. Was he seriously going to sit his ass down on this rusty metal object and expel his waste? 'I guess I don't really have a choice,' he thought. He faced the grill, pulled down his pants, and sat down. His flesh met the cold rim of the bucket and he squealed. 'Now it's back to business.' He raised his spatula, and, from his place on the bucket, reached up to tend to the Krabby Patties on the grill.

Squidward cringed. He could hear the straining and groaning very clearly from where he sat, and it was beginning to gross him out. The sooner that formula came out the better. This whole bucket thing was completely unsanitary. What did Krabs think he was doing, making SpongeBob handle himself like this. Couldn't the poor sap get the day off? Nah, that would mean Squidward would have to man two posts. Well, couldn't he just pull the formula out? Was that even possible?

SpongeBob bit his lip in discomfort. His digestive system was making it very difficult to do his job. "Order up!" He slid Squidward a few patties before turning the grill down low and moving the bucket towards the back of the kitchen. He needed to relieve himself, and he needed to now. He couldn't take much more of this shitty situation.

SpongeBob bent over and spread his cheeks above the bucket. He squeezed hard, his bad case of diarrhea causing a terrible mess. Being the relatively hygienic guy he was, and in order to ensure the cleanliness of his clothing, he ditched the rest of his outfit and resumed his process of defecating now completely in the nude.

Squidward turned his head to gaze at the sight in the kitchen. He expected to wretch or perhaps shriek in horror at his findings, but instead found his eyes locked on SpongeBob's semi-public risqué display. He stared intently at the sponge's ass, which is all he could really see, anyway. It opened and closed profusely, as if it were desperately trying to rid his body of its own organs. Squidward wouldn't have been surprised if his intestines slid out any minute now.

The sponge collapsed onto the floor in a somewhat dramatic fashion to catch his breath. He wanted the formula out, and he wanted it out now. It was close, he knew that for sure. He could feel the hard bottle within his rectum. Perhaps Squidward could help. After all, he was one of the "nicest" people SpongeBob knew. Of course, people who lived in reality recognized that as far from the truth. That didn't mean Squidward wished the poor chap to suffer, however, and if it meant peace, quiet, and fresh air, it might be the slightest bit possible that Squidward would lend a hand. Or tentacle. Or whatever.

It was as if Squidward had been reading his mind. The octopus opened the kitchen door, nose crinkled in disgust. He stepped in, approaching SpongeBob, one eyebrow raised. "SpongeBob, what the hell is going on here?" he asked flatly.

Despite Squidward being a sort of answer to prayer, his presence was still a bit unexpected, and SpongeBob's face heated up to a bright shade of red. He gasped, attempting to cover himself with his small hands. "Uh, I was just handling business, is all! Nothing to see here. Thanks." Untruthfulness was written all over his wide smile.

"Look, SpongeBob. I could literally see you from where I was out there. You're lying."

SpongeBob hung his head, cringing at how exposed he left himself to the public eye. Well, the eyes of Squidward, that is. He bit his lip. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Oh, no, don't be!" He through up his tentacles sarcastically. "I quite enjoyed seeing your tight little ass take a shit in the same place you cook the food!"

"S-Squidward—"

"Don't Squidward me. Just, ju— Y'know what? Bend over."

"What?"

"I said, bend over!"

SpongeBob didn't think he could turn any redder, but he was wrong. His face was hot to the touch. His cheeks were so full of blood, he though they might burst! Squidward wanted him to what? Squidward, the one who he adored, his best friend, the one he caught himself unintentionally having salacious thoughts about at night, that guy wanted him to expose himself to him? Well, he didn't want to say he liked the idea, per se, but he definitely wouldn't mind it. Oh man, this was going to be good!

Squidward watched as SpongeBob stood up, turned around, and bent down. Squidward took his tentacles and spread his cheeks apart. His eyes went wide. Well no wonder the little sponge couldn't get the formula out! His asshole wasn't stretched enough to accommodate such a size or shape. Thankfully, he had an idea.

He tapped his right butt cheek. "SpongeBob, I have an idea that just might work, but first I need to establish something."

The boy turned his head to look at Squidward's serious-looking face. "Alright."

"One, I hate you. Let's get that straight. I'm only doing this so I don't have to hear your groans of aging anymore. Got it?"

"Aw, you're so sweet, Squiddy."

He slapped him across both cheeks. "No, I am not! I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for me." ... "SpongeBob! Sponge- Are you listening?" He slapped him again.

SpongeBob was chewing his lip, lost in the sensations he was getting from Squidward's abuse on his ass.

"Are you getting off to this?!" He crossed his arms. "You're sick!

SpongeBob snapped out of his trance, slurping the bit of drool that had formed at the corner of his lip. He grabbed his behind, spreading himself for Squidward, a desperate look plastered on his seemingly innocent face. "Aw, Squidward, c'mon. Can you please get the formula out of my system?"

"Yeah, if you listen to my Nep-damn idea!"

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I'm going to slide one of my tentacles into your anus to loosen it. It might hurt a bit."

The next few minutes consisted of crying and tentacles. Squidward managed to fit two tentacles into SpongeBob's anus before the boy demanded that he stop. His virgin asshole was virgin no longer, but there was one problem. Squidward's slippery tentacles were a bit stuck.

The octopus pulled, and SpongeBob pushed against him. They rocked back and forth, Squidward unaware of what the sponge was doing. When the sponge began to moan, only then did he realize. "More, Squiddy," was getting louder and louder until a deep sigh was heard, and SpongeBob's anus tightened around the tentacles within.

"Agh, SpongeBob!" he squealed, watching as the pores on his body began contracting profusely. A sticky, clear substance dribbled down from each crevice. Squidward gagged. "Did you seriously just—?"

Seconds later, a clatter was heard on the floor. SpongeBob looked down to see what he had birthed. It was the formula, all covered in yuck, but safe and sound at last.

The musical shuffling of little crab legs could be heard scurrying towards the kitchen. It was Mr. Krabs. The boss looked at the scene before him, his face completely blank. "What the hell?" was written all over his dumbfounded expression. His jaw quivered, and all he could manage was a weak, "Wipe yer ass, wash yer hands, and get yer shit together..."

No pun intended.

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**I have a side of me that is revealed through fanfics like these... Stay tuned!**


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